Come So Far
by ncfan
Summary: And still so far to go.


I own nothing.

* * *

Before, the closest Tauriel ever got to seeing the world was when she would climb to the treetops in Mirkwood, and stare hungrily out over all that she could see. She remembers the first time she did this. It was spring, and not long after she had come to live at the capital. There was no one to tell her no, so she found a tree that she liked, shimmied up the trunk until she found branches strong enough to bear her weight, and began to climb.

Up and up and up Tauriel climbed, unafraid. She has been accused of being totally without caution, and supposes this to be a fair assessment; if anything, it started early, this recklessness of hers. The higher she climbed, the lesser grew the gloom, the more she could see Anor's welcome light. Where Tauriel had been born, the forest was not as dense, and when she first came to live in the capital, she could not help but mourn the distinct lack of sun- and moonlight. Finally, she reached the top of the trees.

She was blasted by a breath of fresh air, fierce winds that ripped across the canopy of Mirkwood; her long hair fanned out behind her. The iridescent blue butterflies that lived in such abundance in the forest erupted in a flurry of fluttering wings and what Tauriel could almost have convinced herself was stardust. She looked all around her, and gasped softly, a delighted smile growing on her face. She could see that the tracks of forest she thought to be endless were not endless after all. She could see a lake shimmering like a mirror in the sunny morning, and a town perched atop the waters like a gigantic lily pad. And crowned with mist, there was a mountain.

There was the tree-climbing, and there were also the stories. Tauriel has hungered for stories ever since she was a little girl, something that hasn't changed at all over the centuries. As a very young guard, she would listen avidly to the tales of older, more experienced guards. Some of them had traveled; the Edhil of Mirkwood did not travel often, but there were still a few who did. She lapped up the tales, any she could hear, of the lands beyond Mirkwood's borders. Even the tales that gave her grief, the ones that made her frustrated beyond belief with the state of the world, she welcomed.

Tauriel had hoped that when she finally did see the world with her own eyes, it would be under better circumstances.

She did not take a horse when she left Mirkwood. Tauriel is confident of her ability to defend herself from any threat she might encounter and, to be honest, she did not want this journey to end so soon. She has been dreading her destination.

So Tauriel walks. She walks over the Misty Mountains, across Rhudaur and the other divided realms of what once was Arnor. She spends long nights in ruined settlements, staring up at the stars and trying not to think of what came to pass that made these once-great cities and watchtowers becoming nothing more than piles of rubble and stone skeletons left naked against the sky. She stares at the stars, and remembers.

Tauriel walks, over hills and grassy fields, fording rivers when she finds them and can find no bridges. She avoids populated settlements, either of Men, or Dwarves, or even Elves. Tauriel can survive in the wild, and she does not particularly want to have to deal with anyone. Not right now.

Eventually, she comes to the Ered Luin, north of the Gulf of Lune. This is a storied place. Once, these mountains were the mountain range separating Beleriand from Eriador. Tauriel does not know much history, but she knows the story of how they came to be two mountain ranges, broken apart, when once they were whole. The soil beneath her feet feels ancient.

Tauriel traverses the foothills, wandering aimlessly, looking for signs and signals. She's not entirely sure exactly where what she's looking for is.

But then, she sees it. Thorin's Halls, the city built by Thorin Oakenshield in exile. Tauriel has never seen this place, and yet it feels familiar to her. It is so like how Kíli described it, so similar that her heart aches as she fills in the gaps he left to her imagination. The city is not lovely to her Elven-eyes, but the buildings are sturdy, promising to weather any storm, no matter how fierce, and Tauriel can appreciate sturdiness.

Her welcome is not overtly hostile, but neither is it warm. These Dwarves have not been served well by their dealings with her people, and Tauriel did not expect to be greeted with open kindness. They all regard her with wariness, but when she inquires after the location of the Lady Dís, she is not denied.

As she approaches the house, her heart begins to pound.

This isn't the first time Tauriel has had to inform someone of a family member's death. She remembers when the last captain was killed, remembers the hail of Yrch-arrows that sang through the branches, remembers the blood. She remembers the sobbing of his wife, remembers the way her heart clanged like a muted knell as she agreed to take his place. This isn't the first time she has had to go inform someone that their mother, their father, wife, husband, sister, brother, daughter… or son, has died.

It's not the first time, and as she became more used to it, the pain and sorrow and guilt grew lesser. But this is an ache like an open wound, where some splinter of the blade has lodged in the cut and refuses to leave.

Tauriel remembers. She remembers the warmth of a bright, careless smile, slurred words spoken in the depths of delirium, another grin and a promise that couldn't be kept. Even months later, even after months of traveling alone, trying to sort everything out in her head, she's not sure what she had there, with him. All she knows is that every memory she has of Kíli makes her ache. This is no exception.

She comes to the house of Lady Dís, and raps on the door, bending down so she can see inside of the front door, if ever it is opened.

She hears someone inside sigh heavily. After a few moments, the door swings open, and the Lady Dís stares up at her. Tauriel can not suppose that she has ever had an Elf visitor before, but nevertheless, the lady does not skip a beat, as she stares sharply at Tauriel and asks her, "What is your business here?"

Tauriel is silent, drinking in the sight of her. Kíli and Fíli described her briefly; both were of the opinion that their mother is very beautiful. Tauriel is no judge of Dwarven beauty—she supposes that the reason Kíli caught her eye is because he came the closest of his company to looking like an Elf—but she stares at the Lady Dís, and tries to see that beauty. The lady much resembles her brother, from what little Tauriel saw of him. She is black-haired, faintly shot through with silver, with piercing blue eyes and a well-kempt beard. The Lady Dís is stern and proud of face, holding herself tall and firm. That beauty her sons described becomes self-evident.

At first, Tauriel opens her mouth to say "I regret to inform you…" but falters, saying nothing. There is nothing particularly forbidding about the lady's expression, and Tauriel has never scared easily; even Thranduil in his worst temper was not enough to really frighten her.

Instead of giving the lady the condolences she must have rehearsed a thousand times in her head, Tauriel fishes in her pocket and holds a heavy stone out to Lady Dís. A stone with carven runes that shine in the moonlight. "I have come to return this to you, Lady Dís," Tauriel says at last, quietly, bowing her head.

Lady Dís takes the stone out of her hand with surprising delicacy for someone with such rough, callused hands. She holds it close, gazing upon the stone with a closed-off, unreadable expression. Then, she turns her gaze on Tauriel. "Do you have a name?" she asks, in a tone that, while terse, can not quite qualify as short. Tauriel has served Thranduil long enough to know the difference.

"Tauriel, Lady Dís."

The lady's eyebrows shoot up her brow. "Do you drink, Mistress Tauriel?"

All at once, the tension goes out of Tauriel's shoulders and her spine, leaving her weary, exhausted, and grateful for the offer. She knows what it must mean, that she is being invited to drink. "Yes, I do."

-0-0-0-

She already knows that they were dead, of course. Messengers on ponies and horses tend to be quicker than one traveler _walking _all the way to the Blue Mountains from the Lonely Mountain, even if that traveler is an Elf. Dís already knows that her brother, and her sons, are dead. She has had months for her grief to run into weary acceptance. The quest has claimed her family in entirety. She had hoped that it would not be so, but that is how it is. Dís knew the risks, as well as anyone else. She accepted it when she watched them leave.

Dís already knows that her sons are dead, and has no special obligation to give hospitality to messengers coming to tell her as much. But when a lone she-Elf dressed in a weather-stained cloak and armed to the teeth appears outside her door, leaning over the lintel so that her long red hair nearly brushes the ground, Dís waves her inside.

Tauriel sits at the table across from Dís, her legs folded awkwardly beneath her. She has already nearly drained her tankard, and is casting a speculative eye towards the bottle Dís has left sitting out on the table. Dís herself drinks more slowly. It's just beer, and not fine wine, but it's still better to savor the taste.

This one, this she-Elf, she has come to return the rune-stone Dís gave to her youngest son. She speaks of Kíli with a strained expression, even if that strain is only visible around her eyes and in the lines that twist around her mouth, lightning-quick to disappear. Dís wonders why. She watches the Elf's red hair glint in the firelight and wonders what she and her reckless son were to each other, that Tauriel would do such a thing, especially considering that she is an Elf of Mirkwood. She wonders, and does not ask. It does not matter anymore, not really.

"So, where will you go now?" Dís asks, narrowing her eyes shrewdly. "Back to Mirkwood?"

-0-0-0-

Tauriel blinks at her, startled out of a haze induced by weariness, maybe drink, and certainly the fire-induced warmth of the house. Then, she shakes her head. "No, Lady Dís. I am not returning to Mirkwood."

She was dismissed from her post. Tauriel was neither particularly grieved, nor particularly surprised, when this happened; she had known what she was risking when she set out for Laketown. In a captain of the King's guard, some level of questioning of the King's will is welcome, even required. It is the captain's duty to point out any perceived lapses in judgment on the King's part, regarding the security of the realm. But the level of disobedience she showed is unacceptable for one of that station. It seems like a small price to pay, really. She could not stand idly by.

Nonetheless, Thranduil admitted afterwards that it wasn't anything personal, and to her surprise, Tauriel realized that she believed him. When she thinks about it, that's probably why he allowed her to keep her weapons. He may have had some idea of what she was planning to do.

Lady Dís purses her lips quizzically. "Where will you go, then?"

To that, Tauriel is not sure. Somewhere. Anywhere. She has longed to see a world free of the Shadow, and with Dol Guldur overthrown*, the Shadow is gone from Mirkwood. But there are still so many other places in the world where its malice gathers might. Should she not go there, and give aid, in any way she can?

And she has so longed to see the world.

Perhaps the lady senses her indecision, for she rests one hand atop her tankard, and points at Tauriel with the other. "Take my advice, Mistress Tauriel, and avoid the southeast of the world if you can. The Men of that region are not particularly friendly towards your people."

Tauriel narrows her eyes. "Thank you, Lady Dís. But if I may ask, why…"

Lady Dís snorts and shakes her head. "Perhaps it seems surprising to you. But it seems to me that it would be impolite to withhold advice from someone who has come so far to return something so small as this—" she holds the rune-stone up, and the runes gleam and flash in the firelight like candle flames "—to me."

_I thought that it held great value, _Tauriel thinks heavily to herself. _I think that still. _She stands, having to stoop in this Dwarf-made house. "I will leave you, then."

Lady Dís nods to her, smiling faintly. "I wish you well, Mistress Tauriel. Wherever it is that you choose to go."

Tauriel steps back outside into the night. Ithil and the host of the stars shines down on her. Tauriel stares up at them, and remembers. Then, she looks onwards, at her path. There is an entire world, beyond this town, for her to see. She will hold her memories dear to her heart, and forge her way anew.

* * *

*I get the strong impression that the movies are building up towards Galadriel overthrowing Dol Guldur in _There and Back Again_.

Anor—the Sindarin name for the Sun  
Edhil—Elves (singular: Edhel) (Sindarin)  
Ered Luin—'Blue Mountains' (Sindarin)  
Ithil—the Sindarin name for the Moon


End file.
